While you were sleeping
by Yoshhh
Summary: This is an alternative S6 premiere. If you haven't seen the premiere.. it will contain spoilers. This fic is.. what if Angel came over to Sunnydale while Buffy was dead..
1. Default Chapter

Part 1  
  
I wince as the vampire hurls Xander into a garbage dumpster. Anya jumps onto the demon's back, trying to distract him, but it doesn't work. From a couple of feet away, Willow raises her hand and starts to chant a spell.  
  
"Anya move!" Tara shouts then sticks a wooden stake into the vampire's back.  
  
"You missed the heart." He smiles menacingly, running his tongue along his fangs.  
  
"Ventilo." The words float out of Willow's mouth. Her eyes turn black and empty. The vampire kicks his legs furiously then yelps as he is tossed into air.  
  
"Take that! Ha!" Xander smirks as he dusts himself.  
  
The vampire growls and picks himself up. He isn't afraid. I can't smell his fear. Buffy kicks him in the face and immediately tries to stake him, but he rolls away.  
  
"Bad, bad evil." She says with a frown.  
  
I watch anxiously as the robot punches the demon in the gut just like Buffy used to. The vampire throws her off by pulling her hair. She yelps helplessly.  
  
"Ventil. ventilda!" Xander shouts with a wave of a hand.  
  
Of course it doesn't work. He doesn't have the power. He didn't even get the spell right. With a look, he urges Willow to do something.  
  
"You're mine." The vampire sneers, dragging her by the hair and ramming her into a wall.  
  
"Run!" Willow shouts to the others.  
  
"Yeah! Run you evil vampire!" Xander starts to threaten then realizes that they were supposed to be doing the running.  
  
"What about Buffybo-?" Tara catches herself from exposing the truth.  
  
"She will be fine." Willow pulls on her girlfriend's arm.  
  
I move back into the shadow so that they won't see me as they run out of the alley.  
  
"No, no. Don't you do that." Buffybot warns the vampire.  
  
I peer out from my hidden spot and watch in horror as he rips a handful of hair from her head. She doesn't seem fazed and continues to throw punches at him, which he dodges with ease. She is in trouble and she doesn't know it.  
  
"Pussycat, be good now." He leers at her.  
  
"Pussycat? Where?" She looks around.  
  
He kicks her ankle and she falls face down on the ground. "Meow." He purrs and places his foot roughly on her back, pinning her down.  
  
"Dirty foot on shirt. Stains are hard to get out. Willow uses Tide with deep cleaning with bleach alternative. Keeps the whites white and the colors bright" She rambles on.  
  
"Enough small talk doll." He grabs her head with both hands as she struggles.  
  
He is going to snap her neck.  
  
I leap out of the shadow and push him off her. He punches me in the face and I hit back with equal force.  
  
"What the-"  
  
I cut him off with a kick. He doubles over and falls next to Buffybot. He reaches over to finish his task, but I'm too fast for him. She coughs as the dust begins to settle.  
  
"You are strong. You are very strong." She smiles brightly as I extend my hand to help her up. I can't help but grin at the cheerful look on her face despite the fact that she has a bald spot on her head.  
  
"Who are you, macho man?" She asks with an innocent look.  
  
She doesn't recognize me. When Willow had come over to Los Angeles to tell me the news of Buffy's death, she probably didn't expect to me back here. She told me that I was welcome to come to the funeral, but I politely refused. That was not how I wanted to remember Buffy. Not with her buried in the ground. Not like that. The funeral was three months ago. I never made it. However, here I am back in Sunnydale trying to undo the wrong.  
  
"You saved my life. Who are you?" She beams.  
  
"A friend." I answer.  
  
"I only have five friends. Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara and Spike," she quips.  
  
I turn around and she gives me a confused look. I came here to fight the lost battle. 


	2. While you were sleeping Part 2

Part 2 

I wait for him to leave. He comes here every night. One hundred and forty five nights.

"Slayer." He growls then stubs the cigarette with the heel of his boot. 

I hear him mutter something under his breath. He misses her just as much as I do. He dumps out the wilted flowers from the small vase in front of her headstone then pulls out a handful of daisies from the pocket of his leather jacket. He replaces someone else's gift with his. He wipes his hand on his pants then quickly reaches into his jacket for another cigarette. 

"You missed out on these. You were going to die young anyway." He lights the cigarette and takes in a long drag. "After slaying is the best." He blows out the smoke. 

I glance up at the sky. Not long 'til sun rise. My patience begins to wear out slowly. Tonight he is taking longer than he usually does. 

"The bit misses you. She doesn't say much, but she misses you. I see the way she looks at the bloody bot. By the way, the witch reprogrammed it so that it wouldn't shag me anymore. Just thought you'd wanna know." He rambles on. "Tomorrow's a big day for the bit and the bot. Some sort of a parent teacher day."

There is a pause. He is thinking of her. He slowly smoothes the headstone as he would her hair, with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Sorry."

I hear the faint sounds of his footsteps disappear and I know no one else is in the cemetery other than me. I listen to the dirt beneath me shift and wonder if she can hear me. Can she? Can she hear how sorry Spike is? Can she hear how sorry _I_ am?

A chip, a soul, and all apologies.

~*~

I clench the armrest as I feel the heat slowly creep into the room. My jaw clenches when the warm glow rapidly turns into a burning pain. I close my eyes to let the pain take over my body and mind, but the boiling blood screams within my vein. They rage against the light and I throw myself out of the chair, away from the window, away from the sun. 

I've failed her again.

I ignore my ragged breath and drag myself to my feet. The stench of burnt flesh fills the small apartment, but it doesn't bother me. I've grown accustomed to it. I'm beginning to think that I'm getting a tan. 

I laugh at my poor attempt of I'm not sure what it is. I'm not sure if I'm ready to label it. All I know is that the scorching pain reminds me that I am still here in this world. A world without _her_. 

_Strong is fighting. It's hard, and it's painful, and it's every day. It's what we have to do. And we can do it together._

Only she isn't here. 

Her words haunt me and I shake myself free from the memories. The fervor inside of me starts to fade away. I'm left feeling numb and empty. My body seeks release from the tiresome night. It cowardly heads for the bed, laying itself down on the bed, against my will. My head hits the plush pillow and my mind reels from the sheer comfort. The soft mattress molds into my body, just as your body did the last night you slept in it. My eyelids grow heavy and the sun fades away with each blink of an eye. I turn away, letting it remain, but a distant memory.

_You're weak. Everybody is. Everybody fails. _


End file.
